“This one! Do you remember how you jawed me a year ago, about being sporting and helping with cricket, and we sat in this very spot?”
“I never jawed you! What a horrible expression! I never even lectured you,” Joan protested. “I was most sympathetic and kind.”
“Yes, you were, but it came to the same thing. I had to go and play cricket and let Beetle be your maid. That won’t happen again, you know. I’ve bullied Kath till her bowling’s quite decent enough for any team.”
“I’m glad. I missed you a lot last summer. But I can’t quite believe Kathleen is as good as you were.”
“Not as good, perhaps,” Jen said candidly. “But she gets wickets and that’s what matters. I couldn’t go on giving up all my summers and losing my dancing. Kath’s had to work; I’ve seen that she did! Now she’s panting to be the team’s chief bowler, so they don’t need me any more. If Kath breaks her arm or has measles, the Head says they may fall back on me; I’m a sort of unofficial reserve. But I’m not playing regularly, so I can be your maid properly, Joan.”
“That’s a good thing, for I want your help,” Joan said, as she turned to the waitress to give her order.
CHAPTER THREE
JEN ACCEPTS
“Joan! You want me? But what can I do?” Jen gave a shout.
“Gently!” Joan scolded. “We don’t want to be turned out into the street. If you’re going to yell like that, I’ll be afraid to tell you what I mean.”
“I’ll whisper,” Jen promised fervently. “I’ll just murmur gently. What do you want me to do? Is it really something for you?”
“I want you to come and live with me,” Joan said, her eyes full of amusement. “Now murmur gently about that, if you can!”
“To live! Do you mean at the Hall?” Jen gasped. “Oh, Joan, don’t tease! Tell me some more! You couldn’t mean that?”
“Oh, but I could. We’re afraid we’re in for a difficult time, and we want you to come and help us.”
Jen sat and stared at her. “I don’t understand,” she said at last. “Either I’m mad or you are. I hope it isn’t you. It might be me, of course.”
“Oh, Jen!” Joan laughed. “Listen, then!” and she told of the letter from Scotland, of the newly-found cousins, and of Belle’s demand that the little sister should find a home at the Hall.
“But what cheek!” Jen cried. “It isn’t Aunty Shirley’s house! What does Joy say?”
“That she doesn’t want the kid. But Joy always gives in to anything Mother wants, and Mother does want her, so she’ll have to come.”
“You don’t want her either, do you?”
“I think it may be too much for Mother. We shall all have to protect her and keep Rykie off her hands. And that’s where you come in, my dear.”
“Oh!” Jen gave another startled gasp. “You think if I stayed at the Hall I could help you with the kid?”
“Exactly. Miss Macey will let you come if your mother agrees, and if you turn up at school punctually every morning. I’ve written to Mrs. Robins.”
“Mother will say yes; she loves me to be with you. I say, what sport! For the whole term?”
“I should think so. Rykie must come to school, of course. I thought you could cycle together; I wouldn’t like her to do it alone.”
“How old is she?” Jen looked thoughtful. “And what’s her name? You called her something weird.”
“She’s fourteen. Her name’s Frederica, after her father. But her sister calls her Rykie.”
Jen’s eyes widened. “How odd! And what’s her second name?”
“Reekie. Her father was Frederick Reekie.”
“Rykie Reekie! Gosh, what a name!”
“We think perhaps she was called Reeka at home, but at school the girls laughed at ‘Reeka Reekie,’ so she turned it into Rykie.”
Jen broke into a wide grin. “I bet they called her Shrieker and she couldn’t stand it.”
Joan laughed. “Perhaps. They couldn’t turn Rykie into Shrieker. Well, Jen, what about it? Will you come to live at the Hall and take Rykie off our hands as much as you can, and especially keep her from worrying Mother?”
“I’ll be nursemaid to half a dozen kids, for the sake of living with you!” Jen promised largely. “It won’t be so bad for you, Joan. We’ll have to start early and we won’t be back till after five, and then there will be prep. I’ll take her out for picnics on Saturdays; lucky it’s the summer term! How long will she stay?”
“We’ve no idea. She’ll have no other home in this country. But she may want to join her sister in America, in time.”
“It’s jolly hard lines on you all.” Jen considered the situation. “The Hall is so nice and quiet and peaceful, and you’ve kept it like that for Aunty Shirley’s sake. To have an unknown kid dumped on you, without any chance to say no, is a bit thick.”
“That’s how Joy feels, but Mother wants to help. Rykie may be a very jolly girl, Jen. We may find we’re glad to have her. I don’t know why we’ve made up our minds she’ll be a nuisance.”
Jen shot a shrewd look at her. “But you think she will. You don’t expect her to be nice.”
“I suppose it’s because Belle has thrust her on us, without giving us much chance to refuse. It’s unfair to blame Rykie; she can’t help herself. Probably we shall like her very much. You see what a great help to us you can be, don’t you?”
“A bit, perhaps. I suppose two will be easier to look after than one, even if one of them’s me—I mean, even if I’m one of them!”
“That sounds better,” Joan laughed. “And, quite apart from Rykie, we always like to have you at the Hall.”
Jen reddened suddenly. “You can’t really mean that, you know, Joan. I’m untidy, and I’m noisy—a real shrieker; everybody says so! I’m the very opposite of all of you at the Abbey; you ought to hate having me there. You’ve been marvellous, to put up with me so much. And now you’re asking me for the whole term! I just don’t believe it.”
“You keep us lively and stop us from getting old and stodgy,” Joan said seriously.
“I hope this Rykie person isn’t really another shrieker!” Jen exclaimed. “You couldn’t stand two in the house!”
“You only shout when you’re thrilled about something. Mother likes having you, and of course Joy and I like you quite a lot!”
“I can’t imagine why,” Jen said humbly.
“You’re a part of our schooldays; you make us feel young again,” Joan said solemnly. “Quite often I wish I could go back to school.”
“Oh, Joan, do come!” Jen gave one of her wild shrieks of excitement. “Everybody would love to have you! You could come with me and Rykie every day. I’m sure you don’t know everything yet!”
“I do not! But I’m learning,” Joan told her. “I’ve taken over most of the housekeeping from Mother and I’m finding out just what a lot of things I don’t know. And Joy is working really hard at her music. We’ve plenty to do, though we aren’t at school. Don’t imagine I sit and read novels all day!”
“You’re coming to the coronation on Friday?” Jen asked wistfully.
“Of course we are! I have to do my last public act for the Club by crowning Muriel with forget-me-nots before she abdicates and crowns Nesta as the new Queen.”
“I forgot; yes, you still have one Queen-thing to do.”
“One duty as a Queen; not Queen-thing, please! What a dreadful expression!”
Jen laughed. “Sorry! Yes, it was ugly. I hope you won’t ever feel too old to come on May Days, not even when you’re a grandmother.”
“A grandmother!” Joan gave a shout of laughter. “I’ll have to be a mother first, and I don’t see any sign of that happening. I don’t suppose I shall ever marry. I shall stay at home and take care of the Abbey; that’s my job. How could I leave it and go away? But you’ll go away, my dear! This isn’t your home. Your people will want you, as soon as you’re done with school.”
Jen’s face clouded. “I wish home was nea
rer. I wish—oh, I don’t know what I wish! But I don’t want to go away from you and the Abbey.”
“You’ll always come to us for May Day,” Joan promised, to comfort her. “Consider yourself invited, here and now, for every coronation! As long as I go back to school to be a Queen I shall want you for my maid.”
Jen’s face lit up. “Thank you, Joan. I shall always come.”
“Unless, of course, you are Queen yourself some day,” Joan added. “I’ll give up my maid if she becomes a Queen, but for no other reason.”
“Oh, they won’t choose me! But I think perhaps good old Beetle will be it next year. She’d be a jolly nice Queen, though she’d look funny, as she’s so little and round.”
“I’m sure Beetle would be a good Queen,” Joan agreed, and said no more about her secret hope, which she knew Joy shared, that Jen would be crowned some day.
CHAPTER FOUR
QUEEN HONESTY IS CROWNED
“I had such a kind letter from your mother, Jen.” Joan drew her maid-of-honour into a corner of the dressing-room, where the Queens were preparing for the procession.
Nesta, looking shy and rather frightened, wore her silver train, with its purple border strewn with glittering white circles; she was bareheaded, for she must receive her crown of starry narcissus from Muriel, the outgoing Queen; in her white shower-bouquet were a few stems of honesty seeds which had survived the winter, and some sprays of purple flowers.
Joy, her bronze hair gleaming under a crown of young beech leaves which matched her bright green train, stood talking with the first two Queens, Miriam, who wore a white robe embroidered with forget-me-nots, and Cicely, whose golden train toned with the daffodils of her crown.
Joan’s robe was of violet velvet, with a border of white violets and a crown which was woven of violets in both colours. She carried a neat little posy to match, and Jen, as her maid, wore a violet girdle and collar on her white frock, which had white violets round the hem, invisible to any but those close at hand, but worked on the frock by Joan as a secret between Jen and herself.
Jen looked up eagerly as Joan told her news. “What did Mother say? I haven’t told anybody yet, just for fear something happened and the lovely plan fell to bits.”
“It mustn’t fall to bits; we can’t do without you. Your mother will let us have you, so long as it doesn’t interfere with your school work. It mustn’t do that, of course, or the Head will have something to say.”
“I won’t let it interfere. I’ll do my prep just as usual. Then is it really settled? May I tell everybody?”
“You may. We want you to come to-morrow. We may as well have you for the week-end.”
“Oh, cheers! Oh, marvellous!” Jen’s cry of joy was heard all over the room. “When does young Rykie turn up?” she added.
“What’s thrilled Jenny-Wren?” asked Cicely, the President, who had started the Hamlet Club.
“We’ll tell you later,” Joan promised. “Muriel wants to go, and I’m quite sure Nesta does.”
“Oh yes, please!” quavered the frightened Queen-elect. “We’d better get it over!”
“Buck up, Queen!” said Beetle vigorously.
“Oh, please!” began the reigning Queen, Muriel, whose duty it was to lead the procession up the big school hall to the platform. “Couldn’t Miriam go first? She was the first Queen. The girls would like it; they love to see her and the President. I—I don’t want to lead. It will be horrible to go out there first.”
She was a grave, quiet girl, who had not come out of her shell much even during the year of her reign. Her robe of speedwell blue gave the clue to her character; she was as shy and timid as her name-flower. The girls had liked her and she had been a good Queen, in a subdued, retiring way; but she had dreaded public functions, and now she looked as white as Nesta, shrinking from the ordeal before her.
“How odd!” the President commented. “Are you really frightened, Speedwell?”
“Desperately!” the Queen shivered.
“You’d better lead, Mirry. We don’t want a fainting Queen,” Joy remarked.
“Turn the procession upside down and let Muriel come last, after me,” Joan suggested. “Then she’ll feel thoroughly protected.”
“All the old Queens first. It’s rather a nice idea,” said Marguerite, the third Queen.
“Standing on its head; the procession, I mean,” Jen murmured.
“What a dreadful picture, Jenny-Wren!” the President had overheard. “All of us walking up the hall on our heads!”
“Oh, well, you know what I mean!”
“I do, and as Marguerite says, it is a nice idea. We’ll try it for this year. You lead, Mirry, and I’ll follow. Then Marguerite, Joy, Joan, and Muriel last.”
“The girls will be dumb with surprise,” Joan said. “We ought to go; they’ve had several dances. You’ll lead beautifully, Mirry.”
Miriam, fair and tall and stately, led the procession with great dignity in the slow march up the hall, followed by the golden President, strawberry-pink Marguerite, bright-green Joy and violet Joan.
“Mirry should do this every year,” Muriel whispered to Nesta and Beatrice, as she took her place behind Joan, whose maid she had been the year before. “She’s perfect, so gracious and regal. I know I should have scuttled along like a frightened rabbit. But Mirry goes so slowly and steadily that nobody can want to run to the platform.”
“Joan and Joy do it nicely too,” Nesta murmured. “They could lead, if they had to do it. And the President always looks like a Queen. I’ll try to be dignified when you come to fetch me.”
“I’ll try to walk slowly,” Muriel said. “I shan’t feel so bad once we’ve started.” And she went out, following Joan.
“They’ve changed everything. Miriam’s the leader; how odd!” The word ran round, as the dancing girls sprang into lines to cheer the Queens.
“I think it’s a good plan,” said somebody. “I expect Queen Speedwell was shy.”
“Mirry always makes me think of a bride, in her white flowers and robe,” said another. “She’s a good leader.”
“She will be a bride soon. Hadn’t you heard? She’s being married this summer; to a cousin, I think.”
“I didn’t know. What a thrill! Fancy the Hamlet Club having a Queen old enough to be married!”
“Mirry must be twenty-two. It’s five years since she was crowned.”
“Five? But there have been six Queens?”
“You’re fairly new,” her friend commented. “You don’t know the early history of the Club. There were two Queens in the second year; the President had just been crowned when she had to go away to Ceylon, so they chose Marguerite in her place. The President never really reigned at all.”
“Oh, well! She’s always bossed the Club. But Miriam is our first Queen to be married.”
“I expect they all will, in time. They’re a very good-looking lot.”
“I can’t imagine the President married, or Joy Shirley. They don’t seem the right sort.”
“Oh, I don’t know! But if anyone wants to marry Joy, he’ll need to be careful he doesn’t get Joan by mistake.”
“He’d be lucky. Joan’s much nicer than Joy. Oh, look, Joan’s crowning Muriel now!”
Joan was laying the forget-me-not wreath on Muriel’s dark hair. “There, Queen Speedwell! It looks lovely. Now go and fetch Nesta; don’t be frightened!”
By this time Muriel had lost her fear, and she came down the hall with real dignity to fetch her successor.
“She’s all right now,” Joan said, watching with sympathy. “I’m glad she’s been Queen, and she has done the job well.”
“You’ve taken care of her,” the President remarked. “You’ve mothered her very kindly.”
“Well, she was my maid. I’ve always liked her. Isn’t she pretty in the speedwell blue? Here comes Nesta. How nice her silver train looks!”
“Frightened but brave. I felt just the same,” Joy commented.
Jen had a
rranged Joan’s train so that it showed to the best advantage, and was now sitting at her Queen’s feet. “Honesty will be a good Queen,” she said.
“We’ll wish Honesty every happiness,” Joan agreed.
When Nesta, crowned, had taken her place on the central throne, the dancing began again.
The Queens watched the plaiting of the maypole and the morris dances that followed, then talked together under cover of the music.
“About Rykie, Jen,” and Joan bent to speak to her maid.
“Oh, yes! What a pity she couldn’t have been here for this evening! When will she come?”
“We expect her early next week. If she doesn’t turn up at once we’ll bring you to school in the car, for the first day or two. We can’t have you cycling alone.”
Jen laughed at her. “I’ll love to come by car! But I’d be all right; I’d be careful. I wouldn’t do anything mad.”
“I hope you wouldn’t. But Mother would worry, if you were riding alone. We can’t have that.”
“How I wonder what Rykie will be like!”
“So do we,” Joan assured her. “It’s going to matter a lot to all of us this summer.”
“I expect she’ll be nice. Most people are, when you get used to them.”
“Very true and quite generous, Jenny-Wren!”
“Joan, we ought to give Miriam a wedding present from the Club.”
“The President has thought of that,” Joan assured her. “She’s going to speak to you all about it soon.”
“Oh, good! I wonder if Mirry’s little girls will come to school and be Queens?”
“Who says Mirry will have little girls? She may have only boys—if she has any children!”
“Oh, she’s sure to have a family! She looks like a person who would have girls.”
“Let her get safely married first! You’re looking rather far ahead,” Joan suggested.
“Is she going to live near enough for her girls to come here?”
“I must tell Mirry what you expect of her! I believe she’ll live somewhere just outside the town.”
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